Zephyr

If you throw me
high enough
release me fully
into the reaching arms
of the rising, waiting wind
I swear that I can fly.

Do not fear for me:
I am neither
foolish nor brave; just know
the wind is my mother.
Her hurricane kiss
is my welcome home.

With her there is
no last gasp,
no first scream;
only the song, the banshee wail,
the resounding battle cry
striking the shocked night sky.

I would no one follow me
in my ascent, for the wind
will not bleed
nor be wounded by sharpest sword.
And I, a rising zephyr, can breathe
even the thinnest air.

~~~~~~~~~~AEW~~~~~~~~~~

I know, me actually commenting on a poem? Whence has my secrecy deserted me? I just wanted to say that this is a deliberately mystical, melodramatic poem. That's it.

Step onto my poembook, said the poet to the reader...poof! <-- More Poems